Maid of the Manor
by Just Look in the Mirror
Summary: "Are you afraid of me, Miss Lourdes?" he chuckled darkly enough to weaken her knees and make her palms practically drip with sweat. "Absolutely not," she lied. Solone Lourdes takes up the open position for housekeeping at the Malfoy Manor, but does not realize exactly what danger she's gotten herself into until it's already too late.
1. The Estate

**Summary: Solone Lourdes' maid work in the Malfoy Manor proves to be more than what she had initially dreamed of. Her employer, Lucius Malfoy, is harsh, biased and even sinister, but just how much can the petite twenty six year old Latin-American do to change the ways of this pure-blooded aristocrat? Will she be able to save that poor little House Elf from further neglect, or furthermore, will she be able to save herself?**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the Malfoys for that matter. All rights to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. (I do own Solone Lourdes)**_

**Rated M for language, derogatory themes, abuse, and sexual content.**

**{Cover photo is of actress Salma Hayek. She is being used to represent Solone's physical appearance.}**

**Read and Review, let me know what you think ;)**

* * *

_**Chapter 1: The Estate**_

The peaking steel gateway ahead this extended gravel trail sent both sparks and elation and chills of apprehension down Miss Solone Lourdes' spine. The twenty six year old witch had grown up in the vast countryside of New Mexico, and had attended Salem's Academy for Witches and Warlocks in Massachusetts. She was muggle born, but that did not hold her back from excelling in school.

She was a Spanish-American with shoulder length, thick and curly black hair, dark brown doe eyes, full lips, lovely tan skin and a petite frame, only coming to around 5'1. She had a slight accent that was soft and melodious to the ears of many, sounding as if she were a visitor from the beautiful country of Spain itself. She grew up just outside of the Mexican border in humid country land and her family owned a farm. Her mother was a History teacher for a local high school and her father sold off the vegetables that blossomed in their crops. Solone got her letter via stray, raggedy and brunet owl on their doorstep shortly after her eleventh birthday. Her family was baffled at the announcement, but the young girl was excited greatly. All her life she had felt different in many ways, and now arrived the potential explanation for her mysterious telepathic tendencies and ability to heat up a cup of tea with the touch of her index finger.

Solone had moved to England shortly after graduating from the Academy, after having no luck in finding an occupation in the Magical Field in her location in the states. She had heard of the job offerings in London, and one that caught her interest was nursing for an infirmary. Upon moving, she reckoned that she could begin her career in St. Mungo's or Wononon's Facility of Magical Healing. Unfortunately, she discovered that both of her sought interning habitats were booked, and would be until she would receive further notice. Hope was lost when neither of the clinics got back in touch with her in the months that followed.

Eventually, she ended up doing maid's work in various places, most commonly being in a low-rate hotel or a private estate. She earned little wherever she went, and was virtually bound to her small and run-down flat. However, one particular morning in the late summer of 1992, she looks through that day's issue of the _Daily Prophet_ to see an ad on the second-to last page that called for the need for a housekeeper or maid for the 'Malfoy Manor'. Pay would be far more than what she'd ever received in her array of jobs, so she was more than eager to take up the open position. There was but a single condition for this placement, that being the witch must be _pure-blooded_. This had ruffled some feathers on the young woman's part, but she reasoned that perhaps she could do some bluffing when she met this Mr. Lucius Malfoy, and tell him that she _is_ of a pureblood status if questioned. At this point, she was desperate for work after suddenly getting laid off from her last job at the Pepperidge Inn.

She wrote a letter to the manor describing her availability for the opening, telling of what hours she could work, how she could clean and cook meals for the family of three and do whatever else was required of them. She attached the envelope to her elderly owl Isla's leg, and sent her off from the balcony. She would return just two days later with a reply from Mr. Malfoy, telling her to meet him at the Manor located in Wiltshire that Friday at 10 a.m sharp for further discussion.

She squealed happily at the acceptation and was tempted to celebrate with a night out in town with her cousin, Esmeralda, who lived nearby, but restricted herself with the lingering reminder that money was tight, but if this meeting with the estate's owner went smoothly enough, she wouldn't be so poor for long!

Her breathing was uneven and her pulse was on the brink of wild. On the manor's patio she stood after ringing the doorbell nervously. She had worn her best and most formal black silk dress that she had worn in her teenage years for family get-togethers and parties back in New Mexico, along with a newly purchased pair of short, black heeled working shoes. She wore her favorite _Revlon_ lipstick and applied plenty of mascara on her already dark and thick lashes. Her hair was wound up into as neat a bun as she could possibly manage, the hairband nearly snapping at just two wraps, and she struggled to keep the hair pins in place to keep the more hyper curls from springing out, not that her possible boss-to-be would likely mind, but she didn't want to take that petty risk. This was just what she needed right now, and she was going to do all she could to impress the high-class, professional, aristocratic businessman.

A small and frail elf answered the door. He wore nothing but a dirty rag-like potato sack covered in holes and stains. The maid was shocked at the sight. Was this creature forced to don such sparse clothing? Actually, the rag that just hung loosely over his shoulders and stopped at his ankles wasn't really clothing at all. This worried her, but she decided not to give it too much thought, for she had more crucial things to worry about.

"Miss Solone Lourdes? 'Tis a pleasure to meet you," spoke the short creature with a bow and a shrill voice, really flattering the witch before him.

"Hello, what is your name?" she asked while bending down a little ways to shake his hand and present him with a kind smile.

"D-Dobby, madam. So kind it is of you to address me with a hello...Dobby is rarely addressed to as such…"

His feeble comment made Solone even more wary. "You live here, yes?" she asked.

"Y-yes, ma'am. Dobby works under the orders of the Malfoy family! To them Dobby serves and obliges to their every demand for the generations to come."

Now she was more concerned for his sake. "You are not...being held here against your will, are you?"

Gulping and massaging his too-slender forearm, he mumbled "Technically speaking, madam, I am required to-"

"DOBBY!" a voice boomed from a distance down the main entrance. The spindly creature went notably stiff and a dreadful mien overtook his features as fast-approaching footsteps could be heard along with the swift thumping of a walking stick. Solone peered past the opened door to see a tall man sporting a black trench coat that was long enough to billow above the polished floor as he strode. His silky blond hair ran all the way down his back, and his light gray eyes were intense and bore hypothetical daggers into the confines of the skittish elf at the threshold.

"Did I not tell you to merely open the door and allow Miss Lourdes in?" he snapped once in their proximity.

"Yes—N-no! No, sir! You did indeed inform Dobby as such!" he sputtered back, wincing while he spoke.

"Then why is it that you decided to hold a conversation with her, when I rather _specifically_ told you to lead her into my office without so much as a _peep _out of your mouth?!"

"D-D-Dobby is terribly sorry, sir!"

"Really, it is alright," Solone interjected laughingly, in an attempt to lighten the situation up. "He is quite a gentleman. In fact, he ought to be rewarded for his greetings."

A cold set of glaring eyes locked onto the soft brown hues of the rather devastatingly attractive young lady who still stood outside the doorway on the patio. Those same eyes raked over what elegantly placed curves she had as well as what ample cheekbones and pert breasts she owned. He kept his gawking brief for obvious reasons. He had an interview to get out of the way that morning. There was no more time to waste.

A crooked simper stretched out on Mr. Malfoy's face. "Run along, now, Dobby," he spat his name out as if it were a mouthful of goblin piss. "I'll deal with _you_ later," he finished with a mutter, sending a fresh chill down the woman's spine.

As the neglected elf scampered off, Solone was presented with a pale, masculine hand. "I'm awful sorry about that, Miss Lourdes. Come inside, won't you?"

She nodded as she placed her considerably smaller and tanner hand in his to shake. She stepped into the room. She was taken aback at the spacious main entrance. The hall was dimly lit, and sumptuously decorated, with a magnificent carpet covering most of the stone floor. Portraits aligned the corridor in which the two currently stood, the faces on them being mostly pale and bearing blond or black hair.

"Right this way, miss," he spoke amiably. His tone was of very high class to the witch who followed him down the enormous and drafty room. To her the interior as well as the exterior of the estate was gorgeous, but if one characteristic could alter at her will, she would definitely add some more windows to allow more natural light into the home, for it was gloomily dark in here.

"I'd like to thank you for responding to my letter, Mr. Mal-"

"Please," he cut in. "Feel free to call me Lucius."

"Oh, alright, Lucius," she replied sheepishly, still nerve wracked for their interlocutor to come. They stopped before the seventh door down to the right of the home's main hallway. Lucius turned the transparent crystalline doorknob that Solone believed to be moulded of pure diamond. This man must have been more wealthy than she had imagined prior.

"After you," he said in quite a genial manner, stepping to the side as he held the door open to provide leeway. Blushing, she wandered into the office. Inside were two well-cushioned chairs that sat before a clean and organized desk. On the desk was a quill dipped into a small pewter bottle brimmed with ink, some parchment and a stack of papers. There was a single window to the right side, though not a glimpse of sunlight had been shone into the room since the deep violet curtains were still closed. The room itself was not too large, maybe the size of an average classroom. There was a fireplace to the left side of the room with a single large armchair placed before it along with a throw rug. A broad portrait of the front of the manor rested on a wall above a table where a candle holder with multiple prongs containing five lit candle sticks and a lucid glass flask at its side sat. The air was more tight than what Solone was comfortable with but she dared not say a word about it. Though, would a bit of fresh air or sun have hurt the man?

"Would you care for a drink before we begin? Tea? Water? Merlot?" he asked as she sat down in one of the armchairs in front of his desk.

"Oh, no thank you," she replied in something just a tad more voluminous than a whisper. She heard the door shut abruptly enough to make her jump ever so slightly in her seat. She knew she was more paranoid than she should have been. If she were to just say the right things and level up to this man's expectations, then she would surely obtain the job.

"There is but a single circumstance that I need to _ahem_, make sure of before we start anything," Lucius declared in an almost stern tone, successfully absorbing all of her attention and accommodation.

"Yes?"

He had yet to take his own seat as he ogled her dead into the eyes, as if trying to seek out her soul. Keeping his stare glued to hers the entire time, he inquired "You are of pureblood status, correct?"

Holding down the urge to quirk an eyebrow back his way at that odd and earnestly nonsensical regulation, she said "Yes, I am."

The lightest of smirks played along his pale-pink lips as he took his seat. "Alright then. We may begin."

"Um, if you do not mind my asking, Mr.—_Lucius_, does my bloodline matter in the hiring?" she asked, almost regretting doing so in case she were risking the potentiality of even getting this opening.

The smirk faded from his lips and grew into a frown. "Well, obviously blood status plays a dire role in our community, Miss Lourdes. I find that the more pure one's blood is of magic, the better that particular person can perform the given task, even if simple. You see, in the Magical World, pure-bloods are naturally the most diligent and thorough in whatever it is they are destined to do, whereas a mud—_em_, muggle born is simply not equipped to carry out order to the community in the _proper way_ a pure-blooded individual can. As my restriction stands, I only hire those who are born into pure-blooded families, with the occasional exception of few half-bloods when and _if_ they prove themselves _just worthy enough_ for my consideration. Is that comprehensible?"

A nod returned his way, though on the inside, Solone was close to fuming. None of what he said was in any way true. He had shown her just how prejudiced he is. She could only pray that he would not critique her for her evident Latin race. At this point, she was about ready to flip him the middle finger for his rude and extremely biased overstatement and march out of the manor, hell, probably even take that suffering little elf with her as she did so, but her brain had beat her heart's desires and forced her to remain fastened to her seat, likely shaming her ancestors greatly.

"I've taken notice of your Spanish accent...I'd wager you did not grow up here in Great Britain, am I right?" he asked as he folded his hands over the desk and studied her every fibre, directing his full attention to her and her only.

"Yes, I grew up in New Mexico, in the states," she replied, fearful that she'd say something that would make her lose her chance of being hired.

"Ah, I see...and what school did you attend?"

"Salem's Academy in Massachusetts. I graduated from there in 1984."

"Mm, interesting. What is your date of birth?"

"June 25th of 1966."

"How long have you been working as a maid?"

"I started my work at the Hyncroft Inn when I was eighteen and worked there for two years. I was then offered a job as a Governess at an elderly witch's private estate, and I worked for her as a nanny for her great grandchildren until a few years ago when she passed away. Since then I have been working at various hotels and properties where there is hire...yet, even in my years of built up savings I have made little, unfortunately. I noticed your ad in the _Daily Prophet_ recently and-"

"Pardon my interrupting, Miss Lourdes, but I must ask, are you only seeking this position for the salary?"

At that she felt her cheeks go aflame and her heart pound vigorously within her chest. How exactly was she to answer that without sounding too conceited? He himself reeked of arrogance but that did not mean that she had the authority to do the same in his presence.

"If that is my reason, sir, is that, um, bad in your eyes?" She swallowed hard after making that statement, mentally chastising herself for sounding so stupid. However, his expression softened as he leant back into his seat and shook his head.

"Not at all. Why, that is in all actuality, highly reasonable. I'd be baffled at a different cause to your arrival."

Why did he even pressure that on her in the first place, then? Was he just pestering her for his own amusement?

"Who was that elf out there? Does he work for you as a servant?" she asked, breaking the silence that had gradually crept in.

"Not that he is of importance to this discussion, nor any for that matter, but he is our House Elf. He does, eh, _serve_ my family and myself, just as he is supposed to. I am presuming that your family did not own one of them, considering your _ignorance_ to the market."

Again, she felt her face flush beetroot at that insinuation. The way he let 'ignorance' pass his lips in such a vulgar and even cruel tone made her want to give him a piece of her mind, but alas, she just couldn't let herself do anything obscene towards him.

"We did not...market?" she couldn't help but ask. She did not miss the swift roll of his eyes after she spoke, already showing his annoyance.

"Of course you are aware of the Ministry's House Elf Localization Office? There you can purchase however many of them as you please. Often, they are auctioned off to the highest bid per elf, though sometimes a group of elves can be sold at quite a deal. Dobby, the nasty little vermin you met, has been serving our kin for the last twenty years."

A disgruntling feeling erupted inside of her. She had gotten a wicked vibe from this man. In the past she had worked for haughty and tightassed pricks akin to what nature he bestowed, but never had she been faced with anyone this...chilly.

"Now, to move on, I would like to discuss the duties you are to accomplish _if_ you are chosen for the opening," he announced, that dark and haunting tone of his never dying as he did so. She especially didn't like the sounds of that 'if'.

"My estate holds forty rooms, each of similar proportion. Occasionally, we have guests over for a night or a weekend, and when that occurs, they use one of the bedrooms upstairs. When a guest arrives, you shall tidy up the room, per se; make it immaculate, fit for a queen. The dining area is a common attraction for spiders if cobwebs begin to drape around, so you would need to dust every nook and cranny of the very room in which we eat our meals, which should be of no difficulty, I'd presume. Keeping the floors without carpeting polished and the laundry needs to be taken care of. As of now the elf does most of the cooking, so overall, you keep this home spotless and tidy, agreed?"

She nodded.

"Well, I will discuss what your income would be with my wife, Narcissa, later on. I will contact you if you have landed yourself the position. From there on I will give you your shift and working days. Chances are, you'd be getting your weekends off, but my spouse and I will give the final say when the time arrives. It was a pleasure meeting you, Solone."

He held out his hand again and she took it shakily. Smiling, she mumbled a quick "Thank you" before rising from her seat and making her exit.

Lucius had very little contemplating to do, for she was not even close to what he'd define as idealistic according to his preferences. The entire thirty-two minutes they were within one another's vicinity she was a stammering, jittery, fearful little woman who asked too many questions. He had her _actual_ blood status to question, for she was oblivious to _House Elves_ for Merlin's sake! Frankly, he had never taken too kindly to Mexicans, for the ones he knew were all the same with their inscrutable tongue and infectious diseases. Oh yes, he'd heard about the country's permeated water supply and dishes that made tourists sick for weeks. He didn't need to visit the country to verify this; he just acknowledged it, as if it were instinct. Though he had to keep in mind that he would not be judging little Miss Lourdes for her race, and maybe he could even overlook her blood status, whatever in Godric's name it even be. The alluring woman had certainly captivated his interest, more so than she herself could ever understand.

To his discouragement, he had five more interviews lined up for the next week, though he was certain that his mind was already made up. Still, he had to do as Narcissa had wanted, and pluck up the best maid he could get. He knew that the wife would like to have an older woman of English descent keeping their home pristine, and _not_ having this twenty-something Latina gal strutting about their home in her little pumps, ageless face and naturally risen bosom harassing the sights of her former bachelor of a husband, but in truth, that was just what he craved.

It had been not five minutes after Solone Lourdes had left his office before he'd made his decision. He was going to make her _his_.


	2. Just Worthy Enough

_*Suggestive themes and racially offensive terms are used in this chapter_

* * *

_**Chapter 2: Just Worthy Enough**_

It was a Thursday when Isla tapped at her owner's window with the letter. Solone had just gotten out of the shower and hurried to let her owl inside upon seeing the envelope in her beak, her bathrobe nearly slipping completely off at the pace in which she hurried. She was highly anxious albeit eager to open it up to see what Mr. Malfoy had to reply.

'_Dear Miss Solone Lourdes,_

_We are gracious to inform you that you have received the position. Report to the manor at precisely 11:00 a.m. on the 24th of August. We shall discuss furthermore on that date._

_Sincerely, _

_Lucius Malfoy'_

She was beyond delighted. The first thing she did was call her cousin to tell her of the news. She kept her fingers crossed that this newfound occupation would work out for the better, unlike the bad luck she'd been succumb to in earlier years.

* * *

With crossed arms and a grimace from hell, Mrs. Malfoy lurked about the living room while her husband sat cozily in his armchair surrounded by the warmth of the crackling blaze in the hearth and a fresh Prophet unfolded in his hands.

"Of course you hire the _youngest _one! I bet she's a charming little lady, isn't she? What with her wrinkle-less face and well-displayed cleavage and all…" Narcissa bit out at the indifferent spouse.

"My, I did not realize you'd be so _envious_, love. Had I known you would throw such a fit over the youth our incoming maid bears then I would have surely reconsidered," he replied in a bitter mock, still remaining quite nonchalant while doing so, only infuriating his wife further.

"I am _not_ jealous, Lucius! I-I am merely upset that you went on ahead and chose who you wanted rather than discuss it over with me first! Frankly, I would have went with Ms. Douboi, you know, the pure-blooded elderly woman. She was organized, reserved and had _years_ of experience in-"

"In what?" Lucius chuckled. "Feather dusting? Tsk, it matters not how much _experience_ they have for keeping our home spotless, Narcissa. Besides, she looked about ready to keel over, wouldn't you agree? At least our more _youthful_ maid will be able to serve us in the years to come," he reasoned with a smirk.

"Ah yes," she snapped. "And _fuck you_ all the longer."

She heeled out of the room with that, leaving Lucius to chortle at her obvious feelings of covetous. Then again, she certainly had much to fret over, didn't she?

* * *

The Spanish woman woke up at quarter to seven on the morning of the 24th. She started up her brew of coffee and took her longest shower in a while. She wanted to look and smell nice for both of her employers. She swiped plenty of mascara on and coated her lips with a soft, rosy gloss. She was unsure of what to wear, and pondered that she would perhaps be given a particular outfit to don by her bosses during her shift, but until then she went with her best pair of working jeans and a navy blue tank top. She put on the same black 2-inch heels she wore for the interview and did her luscious locks into as tight and sturdy a bun as she could manage.

Before leaving that morning, she had swallowed down two cups of coffee and a single piece of raspberry jam toast. She was apprehensive for her first day, significantly more so than with her other jobs' first days in the past. There was something about Mr. Malfoy that told her that he was no one to irritate, and his evident cruel behavior towards his genial little servant tied her stomach up into knots of fury, but she chose to let it slip as best as she could and focus on proving herself just worthy enough for the austere aristocrat.

She kissed Isla goodbye and fetched her broomstick from her closet. She decided to fly over taking the train to Wiltshire to both perk her up and save money. At the moment Solone considered herself to be a fairly frugal woman, but she was secretly hoping that would get to change with time and paychecks to come.

As she rode high up in the clouds, she yearned to let her curls flow wildly in the breeze, and ended up getting the best of herself just nine minutes into the air. She could fix it up back into its neat updo later on anyways.

It took her nearly thirty minutes to get to the manor. When she landed before the iron gates, she walked on with mildly flushed cheeks and beautifully untamed hair. Lucius awaited his new little maid from the main hall, as he stood before one of the few windows with the curtains brushed aside. He felt a flow of euphoria accompanied with pleasure at the sight of Solone alluringly sashaying up to his front doors. She had appeared more prepossessing than on their last meet just over a week earlier. How was that even possible? Just a handful of minutes into their previous encounter he wanted to lunge for her, hike her dress up, rip her panties aside, (_if she were even wearing any_, he mused perversely) and thrust into her harder than anyone he had ever screwed in his life, his beloved included. Yet somehow, she had conquered his full attention again with a whole new wardrobe and ambiance about her.

'_Just a tad closer, now, my mesmerizing little slave...Come hither. No! Don't stop to admire the bloody garden! Yes...yes...get moving along now, my sweet. It won't be soon before long when I have you stripped stark, on your knees and ready to-'_

"She's late."

He spun around from his stance before the window to see his grown nuisance of a wife by the stairway, her arms at their sides rather than crossed in their usual annoying position. Her lips were pulled into a thin frown and her eyes were narrowed in discontentment. At this moment she looked older and more dreadful than she had in their fourteen years of marriage.

"Hardly, Narcissa…" he scoffed. "Perhaps by a measly four minutes," he added.

"Still, not too _precise_, is she?"

"Do not get your knickers in a twist, my dear. I assure you, she will meet your every expectation...Perhaps the two of you can even become...acquaintances."

"I wouldn't wager on that, Lucius," she snarled. "If she makes even the _tiniest_ flaw when I am around to catch her then she will be dismissed quicker than-"

"Oh no she won't be!" the towering blond spat back brutally enough to make his wife flinch. Stepping her way, he went on "You will treat Solone with respect the blasted elf _dreams_ of! I'm not about to have this one walk out on us just because she is not of your _personal tastes_, understood?!"

"And what if I do not?" she challenged coldly, but before he could answer, a light knock sounded from their door. He shot her a final warning glance before proceeding for the entrance with a straightened posture and a welcoming grin.

He opened the door to lose himself in those large, hazelnut eyes. "Morning, Miss Lourdes," he greeted, holding his pale, lengthy right hand out for her to shake. "Won't you come inside?"

Coyly, she laced her delicate fingers with his own and smilingly thanked him for handing her the position. Beyond him stood his already dissatisfied wife. Narcissa's eyes went wide at the view of their new maid. By Lord, she was even more stunning than she had presumed! Her _flirtatious_ smile and such _provocative_ top had made the thirty seven year old wife more angry than what was healthy. She held down the immense impulse to scream out what a _thieving, sultry whore_ she was, coming in here to try and _seduce_ her husband just shy of fifteen years into ramming the tight area in between her legs in a riotous fashion. How _dare_ she attempt such! She took a deep breath and stepped forward to greet _their _housekeeper, remaining as stoic and mollified as Lucius had threatened.

"How do you do, Mrs. Malfoy?" the petite and '_overly tan'_ woman chirped while holding out her hand.

Using all of her strength to keep from spitting straight on the newcomer's cheek in disgust, she curtly shook her hand and mumbled a quick "I'm fine, thank you."

"Allow me to show you around the manor," Lucius dictated from just a few feet away. Narcissa allowed herself the freedom to glare at the maid's turned back. With constructive consideration, Narcissa questioned why they even needed a maid at all.

Lucius had given Solone a grand detour of the entire estate, showing her around every last corner there was in and out of the manor. She took great interest in his vast array of gardens that rested on the front lawn upon entering the gateway. She was just as awestruck at the size of the kitchen that was connected to the dining area. She silently hoped that one day the little elf would be too tired or ill to cook for the family, leaving her to take his place. Such a lovely abode as this had made the maid want to leave hardly ever, if only there were more bright and lively colors and lighting in at least some of the rooms. Yes, she was captivated by every step she took around the home but why was it so dark in here? It was almost as if the Malfoys were a family of vampires, literally and maybe shamefully allergic to the sun, whereas she, contrarily, was raised underneath daylight back at her family's farm in New Mexico.

"You have a marvelous home, sir. If you do not mind my asking, what is it that you do for a living?" she asked as they wandered down a trail outside of the manor with large and thick hedges at either side of them.

"Well, in the generations dating back centuries, we Malfoys have run multiple apothecaries in the making of wine and various other merchandise complementary of our affluence. I have been an Official of the Ministry and Governor for my son's private school since '77. That, Miss Lourdes, is how I've gotten to withstand my, _ahem_, appreciable bank's worth."

"Goodness, you sound like a busy, hard-working man," she piped in as she took in the charm of the broad trail they were moseying down.

"I'm not one to boast," he remarked assuringly.

"Your son, how old is he?"

"Draco's just turned twelve on the fifth of June. He'll be starting his second year at Hogwarts in just a week. He was _thankfully_ sorted into the House of Slytherin last year, alike Narcissa and myself. Beforehand, I'd guessed he would be placed as he was. He had just the cunning ambition and diligence required for such an honorary label. Originally, I had the boy set to attend the Durmstrang Institute out in Norway, with their system being designed for gentlemen of pureblood, but my wife did not want him so 'far away', despite my suggestions that he would be alright; he's always done exceptionally with taking care of himself, and I was, and remain positive, that he would have excelled in that school, however," he paused to sigh, "I could not convince her otherwise, and she was allowed the final say...nevertheless, he does well enough at the school he's going to now."

"Oh...that is nice, yes?"

He smirked to himself at her accent and her occasional slip of the tongue. He could assume that English was not her first language, though she still spoke with more articulation than any of that _Weasley's_ children, surely.

He chuckled. "Mm, right you are, madam. Had I absolutely loathed the school then I wouldn't be representing the place as I do."

"That is logical, Mister-"

"_Lucius_, my dear."

"Lucius...I do like that name."

Again, he smiled with more mirth than what was normal for him on a regular day. He wasn't sure what he enjoyed so much about having this woman in his company, but at this point he was certain that it went beyond just her physical beauty. Now he was finding that she was highly charismatic and genteel, far more so than his often stern bitch of a wife. He not only knew, but felt deep down into the most unperturbed pieces of his questionably existing soul that she was something when he read the three pages she'd sent him of pure, pleading desperation. Never before had anything, not even the very witnessing of his own son having been born, yank at his heartstrings like her letter had. It was certainly no résumé, nor was it the fluent, crisp, and cut-to-the-chase prattle that the other work-seekers had sent him in response to the ad he had placed in the Prophet, but it was powerful enough to force his right hand over to his quill and write straight back. He just had to _see_ this woman, for reasons beyond him. Pfft, their first meeting wasn't an interview; it was preparation for what she had already won the second he read the first two words of her letter.

"_I need"_

And here she was at his side, a warm smile adorning her ample face and her ebony curls bouncing lightly with every little stride she took. The older man struggled to avert his gaze from her, the enthralling little minx. To his luck she was busying her own sights with his property, unbeknownst to his hard, intense gawk. He was also quite grateful that his so adorably jealous wife had decided to stay behind in the manor, to probably mope and fume in her own solitude, not that her spouse minded any.

"You have lived here all your life, yes?" she piped in as they veered onto a new pathway, this one smothered in plants of all kinds. The scent in the air was enticing to take in for the new-come maid. It brought back old and presumed lost memories of her earliest years in her grandmother's gardens in New Mexico. She reminisced the times as a tot when she'd take in the most gratifying of whiffs in her pleasant array of gardens in the small backyard, the odors varying from the fresh roses dripping of the rainfall earlier in the day, and the ripened tomatoes, basil and lavender that grew amongst the pasture. Solone had been through the grimmest of times when she lost her grandmother to breast cancer at the age of fifty six when she was just fourteen. The recollection of the funeral brought a tear to her eye, and now was not a splendid time to weep in her new bosses presence.

"Yes, I grew up on the estate and have inherited the manor and all its luxuries after the sudden passing of my father. One day, I shall hand the manor over to my son, to ensure that he raises a family of his own in just the formality and paradise that I have been able to produce."

"How wonderful, sir," she chimed sweetly while twiddling her fingers in a nervous, unaware and subtle manner.

'_Divine,'_ his mind whispered, captivated at the delicacy this little woman bestowed.

"Indeed. Well, Miss Lourdes, now that I have given you a proper introduction to the grounds, I shall speak on your weekly shift and income," he addressed, rather professionally. "For the first few weeks, can you agree on coming in on Monday through Friday from noon until dusk?" She nodded. "You will be responsible for cooking our meals and keeping our rooms where business is paid tidy and virtuous. We frequently have guests about the household and need it spotless and neat for the visitors, and our damn — _despicable_ House Elf is not always able to keep up with the work he is assigned, likely due to his overtly frail stature and tragically below average mentality...However, I suspect quite the contrary of you."

He stopped in his tracks, turned to her and smirked. "You are bound to make me, as well as my wife and son, compliant."

"I sure hope so, sir," she complied, admittedly disgruntled by the way he referred to the kindhearted elf who greeted her at the doorway. He deserved no such malign that his master was referring to him. Alas, she had to keep her disputes sealed inside so as to keep her new occupation.

"Right then, come along back into the manor with me so we can evaluate remuneration in my office. I also have a few documents for you to sign before you are officially employed."

She nodded, willing to agree on nearly anything he had to assign.

_Nearly_ anything.

* * *

Back in his office, Solone took a seat before his desk in the same chair as on her last visit. Upon entering the manor, Narcissa had seemed eager to get to know their new maid beyond the simple handshake and "how do you do" greeting from earlier, however, Lucius made himself very clear when he implied that he wished to keep what "further business" he had to address with Miss Lourdes when he recommended that his wife go into the kitchen and whip up a batch of scones and brew some tea. With evident hesitance, she went on to accomplish just that while the employer and the woman had another private chat in his personal quarters.

"Your wife is kind, Mr. Malfoy."

As he scuffled through one of three of stacks of parchment that rested atop his working space he nodded and huffed a hasty "Yes," back her way. Solone had by now succeeded in receiving the position, but that did not designate a need to slouch back and decline any compliments or fair impressions for either of her employers. She was raised to treat everyone who crossed her path with great respect and courtesy, even if they themselves did not give off similar vibes. Being born into a Catholic family taught her to keep the Lord in her heart and look to others with sympathy and compassion, and most certainly address a clear "Bless you" to whomever sneezed regardless of their own religious beliefs, whether they had any or not.

"Ah, put your signature here, won't you?" he asked, laying the long, tan and mildly crinkled parchment in front of her along with a quill and some ink. The writing utensil remained untouched as she began to read through the first paragraph on the first parchment, to the apparent annoyance of Lucius.

"Oh, don't bother reading through that whole thing, Miss Lourdes. It merely states what you are obligated to do as a housekeeper, and we've already gone through what you need to know," he informed with a smirk and a wave of his hand.

"Um, alright."

She went on to sign her name in bubbly cursive that deviated greatly from his wife's penmanship, which was a boringly cliched small scribble that some would need a magnifying glass to read accurately. As she proceeded to sign the other two documents, Lucius found that he could not remove his eyes from her delicate, tanned right hand as she took her time to write out her full name. It was a petty muse really, but he took in her every reflex with something close to obsession and scrutiny that he'd never used for his wife, let alone son, in the years he'd taken care of either. Unremarkably, this struck him as ridiculous.

"Is that all, sir?"

"_Lucius_, my dear, and, yes, that is all for now."

As they exited the office, Mrs. Malfoy headed their way with a tea kettle and a few cups on a metal tray, along with a forced smile. The three gathered around in the living room and took comfort in their own armchair before the unlit hearth.

"Narcissa, won't you go and fetch Draco? I'd like him to meet Miss Lourdes, for she _is _going to be around here quite frequently, after all," Lucius asserted, to be returned a thin-lipped frown as his wife finished pouring the steaming tea into her own cup.

"He's still at Vincent's home. He shouldn't return for another six or so hours."

"Mm, alright, then. Solone, you will get to meet my son tonight during supper. Until then, we'll take the time to get to know one another better."

Solone missed the flicker of Narcissa's eyebrow as well as the scowl she presented in that moment, but Lucius did not. It was obvious that his wife did not take a liking to the maid, and as he'd been constantly scolded at in the week that went by before he'd sent off that letter telling Solone that she'd received the opening, (without a word of opinion on the wife's behalf, mind you) Lucius was well aware that Narcissa wanted old lady Duboi mopping up their home over the young and sexy _spic_, as the wife had so loathsomely described her as, much to her spouse's disdain.

"Is something the matter, dear?" he asked the grimacing woman beside him.

"Oh, I'd just guessed that the two of you already got quite acquainted enough with one another on your little endeavor outdoors, _love_," Narcissa spat with such little sincerity that it could qualify as an insult. Lucius was astounded as to why his wife was already throwing out her harsh feelings for Solone. And he not only was that, but downright pissed as well. He seemed to recall their discussion earlier on how she was going to behave herself in the presence of Miss Lourdes or otherwise, well, he hadn't actually gotten around to finishing that threat due to that soothingly gentle knock at their front door, but nevertheless, Narcissa, being a lady of high class herself, should have known better than to speak so rudely in the welcoming of their new guest and housekeeper.

"Darling…" he forced a grin to accompany his inquiry, "what are you suggesting?"

With a stance abrupt enough to damn nearly knock the tea cozy and her still half-full cup down to the floor, Narcissa answered "Nothing, darling, nothing at all." She then stalked out of the proximity, leaving behind a hypothetical trail of abhorrence. Lucius internally fumed at the occurrence while the younger woman beside him felt guilty.

"She...does not like me."

At that, he whipped his head in her direction and shakily corrected "No, no, Miss Lourdes. You are no problem at all. She'd just been, well, a tad under the weather lately. Narcissa always has been rather moody when her migraines get the best of her."

Despite this affirmation, she still sensed that Mrs. Malfoy did not own the same welcoming regards that Lucius had been showing. She briefly surmised that it was probable that she was skeptical of her race's work ethic, because, yes, Solone was well aware that many people of higher class all around the world can be judgmental. Certainly not everyone of great wealth and formality, but portions, and it seemed that the Malfoys fell into that category, and she could easily infer this once her boss himself had told her of his oppressive regulation that whomever works for him must be of pureblood descent. She clung on to her ancestors' guidance that he would not uncover the truth that she was indeed not a pure-blooded witch, but just as good as one nonetheless. Yet, if it was true that this kin did not look fondly to others of differing race and culture, then why was Lucius treating her with such generosity?

* * *

Her first task was to assist the House Elf in the kitchen in making a grand dinner for the family that evening. They were to brew up a pot of vegetable stew with chicken and rolls. Solone had always preferred cooking over cleaning and thought back to the times when she would cook pastries with Lady Tuffet's great grandchildren a few years earlier. She adored those children. There were five she looked after, three girls and two boys, each of them under eight years of age. Their parent's had passed away in an awry explosion at a Convention of the Muggle World in town, believed to have been set up by Death Eaters. The children were with their great grandmother at the time of the incident, and she had taken them under her wing in her care.

At the age of ninety-four she found it nearly impossible raising five youngsters on her own, and so she met Solone who had been looking for Governesses work at that time. For a year and a half she played a guardian's role for the children, coming to love each one individually, until Lady Tuffet had passed away suddenly. She was found in her garden nearby an odd looking patch of flowers. Further investigation determined that those flowers in particular were rare and lethal, generally only available on the black market to be used for attemptively discreet murders. Solone recalled Lady Tuffet telling her of how a tall man in a black cloak had given her a pouch of seeds when she visited the botanical shop in Caster's Grove. She thought nothing wrongly of them and planted them once she returned home. This was just a few weeks earlier. Supposedly, once the seeds had begun to blossom they emanated a scent that constricts the airways with one inhale. It was verifiable that this was how the elderly witch had met her demise earlier than she should have, considering she was a fairly healthy and spry half-blooded witch.

With extended family living all around the globe, the children had nowhere to go after losing their guardian, and Solone had done all she could to take them in to raise for herself in her flat, but she did not have the financial qualifications it took to successfully care for them, if not only two or three out of the five of them, and if she could not care for them all, then she could not care for any. It tore her apart watching those kids go into the Orphanage of Lonemorse in the village of Yuntine, where its children were rumoredly forced into labor and often mistreated, though Solone could only pray that the rumors were either false or outdated. She would try to visit the children as often as she could, that being more than a few times a week, but visitors were, for some baffling, unjustifiable reason, not permitted to come by on a too frequent basis, and eventually every Tuffet child was adopted off, unfortunately only two remained together in the process. All Solone could do was force herself to move along, just as her mother would have suggested, and wish the best for each and every one of those children.

Now, at the considerable, porcelain basin of the Manor's kitchen, brimming a pot with water to steam for the stew, a tear was brought to her eye at the reveries of little Johnnie, Benjamin, Kalia, May and Fiona. Her short assistant had tuned in to her light sniffling without her awareness.

"Is something the matter, Miss Lourdes, ma'am?" the elf inquired with wide eyes and great concern.

Suddenly, she wiped away her tears and pulled herself together. "Oh, I'm alright, Dobby. I was just thinking back to the time when I looked after these children. I was their nanny until they were sent off elsewhere when their guardian passed away...it was quite upsetting for me, and still is. I could not afford to raise them myself."

A feeble and bony hand wrapped ever so gently around Solone's right wrist. "Dobby gives his condolences, madam."

He was such a sweetheart. The probable fact that he was neglected made her want to curse the daylights out of her boss. How could anyone, no matter their extended jurisdiction, abuse such amiability in a creature?

"You may call me Solone, my friend,"

If possible, the scrawny elf's already humongous eyes went even larger in bewilderment. "Y-you consider Dobby...a _friend_?" he mumbled with evident uneasiness. My, just how desolated was this poor fellow's life? It saddened the woman at his side to see him so socially deprived that he didn't even have a single person to call an acquaintance. After she placed the lid over the steaming stew she knelt down to embrace the woeful little man.

"Yes, I do, Dobby. You are a very special person. Very kindhearted and generous towards even those who do not deserve such sweetness. You may speak with me anytime you like."

As much as the elf would have loved her extended presence, he had to advise her a grim warning. "Ma'am?" he hushedly whispered. She refrained from chopping up the carrots and glanced downwards, giving him her attention. "Dobby strictly advises that you get as far away from the Malfoy family as possible! Dobby wants Miss Solone Lourdes to be safe and away from the harm that rests within this manor!"

She shot him an addled look. "What do you mean?"

Cautiously, he checked the vicinity and stared at the entrance to ensure that no one was nearby but the two of them.

He cupped his big, bony-fingered right hand to the side of his mouth and mustered "Over many years has Dobby been put through the toil and pain of the grown-up Malfoy gentlemen. Over those same years has Dobby been scarred both physically and mentally at the wrath of these gentlemen. Dobby's masters have-" he paused to gulp, "tortured him into something very near madness. Dobby does not wish to see Miss Lourdes endure such torment. Only does Dobby desire Solone's sanctum and conformity."

Now alarmed, Solone hastily asked "Is it Lucius who does these things to you?"

He nodded skittishly.

"What does he do?"

Again, he made sure they were completely alone before informing "First it was Mister Lucius Malfoy's father, Abraxas Malfoy, who punished Dobby for his indolence when Dobby was just a very young elf, then as his son grew older he took ownership over Dobby. Dobby must serve the Malfoy family and obey their every command for the generations to come."

Solone was at loss for words. She had gotten the impression earlier on that her employer was not treating the elf too kindly, but never had she dreamed that he was literally punished for whatever it was that he was doing *wrong*. Thus far, Lucius had not shown any adamant notions of detestation for her, but what if that did change in time? Should she have taken the elf's words to heart and made her escape while she still could...or stick about and await what hell may have been rising. She could not just leave Dobby. Perhaps this was her calling. Maybe she was meant to save him from this prison disguised with the finest of drapery and to-the-hilt throw rugs. It would take time and effort to plan out exactly how she was going to get Dobby to safe haven. She would certainly need to keep her position and get on her employers' good terms.

"Don't you worry, my friend. I will do my best to try and get you out of here."

"No! You mustn't!" he yipped. "Dobby must stay here for all eternity! Dobby must serve the Malfoys! Dobby cannot leave, not ever!"

She shushed him so as to prevent either of her bosses from wandering in to investigate all the commotion. Sighing and massaging her temples frustratingly, she mumbled "Why can't you go?"

Shaking his head, he answered "Dobby must not reveal. Dobby must never tell others why he cannot be free."

At this point she was on the verge of sobbing for the indigent creature. It took all the restraint she possessed to keep from sweeping him off his feet and fleeing the manor; anything to get him to freedom.

"Why can't you tell me, dear?"

Before he could pronounce a single word in response, his body flattened up against the cabinets and his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. Solone studied his look briefly before spinning around to see Lucius at the threshold with crossed arms and a scowl adorning his face. She had not seen him appear so flustered until now.

"Dobby, what do you think you're doing distracting Miss Lourdes with your insignificant gibberish? If I recall correctly, I told you to keep your lips sealed and provide a helping hand with the lady." He stepped in closer, his glare never leaving the shaken elf as he did so. "So enlighten me as to why you've decided to go against my orders?"

"D-Dob-b-by is t-t-terribly remorseful, sir!" he stuttered back anxiously enough to practically slap Solone with intense confusion partnered with anger.

"If I may, Lucius, he was merely suggesting that I add a tad more pepper to the stew," the maid objected, doing her best to sound nowhere near as cross as she was internally. Those piercing grays bounced onto her and a scoff erupted from within the much taller man.

"Well, if you insist so, Solone. However…" he took one great step forward, just about closing the distance in between them, "you may bring it to my attention if he is of any nuisance to you at any time. Believe me…" he shot the elf a look of absolute revolt, "there are no restrictions. Do not shy away my office if a nerve of yours bursts at the fault of _that_."

A protesting peep escaped her lips until she covered it up with a nod and an assurance of "Yes, I will."

Smirking approvingly, he backed away and took a gander at the steaming pot on the stove. "How is supper coming along?" he asked, breaking the proximity's tension.

"Oh, the stew will be finished soon, in about ten minutes or so, and the chicken is cooling off over there," she answered.

"Excellent. Once everything is through, you and the _monstrosity_ may bring out. You may take a seat with us as well. I'd like you to meet my son."

He departed the kitchen at her nod. She gifted Dobby with a final look of empathy before attending to the meal. Not another word was shared between them in those next fifteen minutes.

x.x.x

Once the plates, silverware and food was all set up and ready for everyone, Lucius allowed the maid to take a seat. The dining table was considerably larger than her own, but it wasn't as large as she had thought it would be beforehand. There were eight chairs, two set up on each side, though only four were in use for tonight. Solone supposed that the extra seats were for their visitors. She was not taken aback to see her new little pal exit the room with not a scrap of meat or a petty sip of stew to follow him out. In fact, Lucius had again sternly ordered Dobby to return to his personal chambers immediately once the family and the maid were acquainted enough. Solone swallowed down any words of retort against him.

The son was a rather handsome lad according to Solone. He definitely shared more than a few characteristics from his father, with his pale-blond hair, bluish-gray eyes, a taller height and blanch skin tone. He stared at her frequently throughout the course of dinner, and Solone presented him with a warm smile every time he did, though he'd never return it. Each of them sat at one end of the table. Narcissa sat to her right, Draco to her left, and Lucius across the table in front of her. There was a grandiose chandelier hanging high above them; the implanted crystals shined enchantingly in the moonlight that reflected in through the open windows. There were lit candles floating above various spots around the table. The atmosphere left the maid in awe, while the family was far too acclimated to the set-up to pay much attention or interest to it.

"We used to have a butler, you know," the adolescent spoke up mid-meal. "His name was Clancy Forthwright. He died just last spring; slipped off a broomstick eighty or so feet in the air while he was out on holiday with his kids or something. His neck probably snapped like a toothpick."

"Draco!" his mother snapped crossly. "Have you any manners? Do you really think it is _appropriate_ to discuss Mr. Forthwright's unfortunate death at this time?"

The child shrugged and said nothing more as he stuffed his mouth full with a thick chunk of well-cooked chicken. Solone timidly continued nibbling her own dish, pleased not by what the child had to share but that he had something to say at all. She wanted the boy and the wife to open up to her and consider her trustworthy. She knew that a potential friendship between her and the Misses was too much to ask for, judging the way she was practically disowned earlier, but just a wee bit confirmation amongst the Malfoy family would have bid her dandy enough.

"Hmph, had my suspicions that ol' Clancy wasn't of _pure_ blood to be entirely frank," Lucius threw in upon cleaning the remainder of his plate. "Hell, doubt he was even a forsaken half-blood. Honestly, what skilled wizard meets their demise by clumsily tilting off their broom and not even having the sense to, hmm, perhaps use his wand that should have been tucked away securely in a pocket just as any decent wizard of undiluted blood would make sure of? The man had never even heard of Durmstrang. Do you remember when I had Draco memorize their commandments by the time his sixth birthday had arrived, Cissa? His schooling there would have been stellar had you not insisted that he attend somewhere nearer to our home…"

With that, Narcissa allowed her fork to clatter on her plate. With a derisive sneer and flickering roll of her eyes, she sighed "I'm not going to discuss that over with you at this time, Lucius. Have you forgotten about our _guest_?"

Solone blushed when the sallow man who sat across the table drew his glints over her while he cheerfully replied "Of course not, dear. How could I have lost awareness of such a polite, mild-mannered and exquisitely brought-up woman?"

"Oh, why, thank you, sir," she murmured tentatively.

"So, Miss Lourdes, if you don't mind my asking, what attracted you to the advertisement on our necessity?" Narcissa piped in, as if attemptively wringing her husband's eyes from the maid and back onto his ever so doting _wife_.

"Well, it stood out amongst a few other job proposals I'd come across, and I had just gotten dropped from my previous work in the Tortellugg Lodge since the business was closing down. From there, I needed a paycheck rather quickly, so once I saw your ad in the Daily Prophet, I-"

"Say no more," Narcissa interrupted with a chuckle, "Your reasons are feasible, obviously. Now I'm curious, have you been married?"

She paid no heed to her glaring husband at the side and kept her focus on the precious physique that just barely hit three inches over five feet, the very body that she knew her husband was fascinated with, even if he refused to recognize it just yet. She needed to learn everything of this woman. She had to uncover just how much of a threat this peppy American woman posed to her marriage.

"No, ma'am. I have yet to wed. I do wish to marry a nice man someday."

'_The little whore.'_

"Mm, that's charming. I've been told that you attended Salem's Academy in the states. I've heard remarkable word of the school. What were you aspiring to become after graduating? Surely the maid's work was not in the mental mapping of your future, was it?"

"_Cissa_, in the other room, if you don't mind," Lucius cut in with a slightly aggressive bite, standing from his seat in the process. "Excuse us, Miss Lourdes. Please do converse with my son until we return," he suggested with an amiable albeit snide smirk. She nodded, thereby signalling him out into the broad hallway outside of the dining area. Once the two were a ways down the hall, Narcissa's back met a portrait of her great grandmother with enough exertion to knock a gust of wind from her.

"_Shit_, Lucius!"

"You're on a roll, darling! Just what kind of bull**_shit_ **are you trying to pull off back in there?! You think you're giving off the right approach by interrogating the woman like she's some ex-convict? You best leave that business to me, understood? I'll have no more nonsense from you tonight."

"Oh, bite me you worthless derelict! She is _our_ maid, Merlin damn you, and I will not just sit around and watch you ogle her over like she's got you under the influence of — of a _fucking_ pitcher of amortentia!"

"This is marvelous! I bloody _knew_ you are jealous! Oh, you foolish woman, under the impression that my cock goes turgid at the sight of every attractive lady who crosses my path."

"Deny it all you like, Lucius. I've seen you, every last bit for these past fourteen and a half years of bearing your last name and your child. Even from our school years I knew you weren't one to gift with _too much_ faith. I am aware of your sly ways, sweetheart. You know you've selected this filthy spic for her grace, charisma and wonderfully risen bosoms."

"You are proving yourself to be astoundingly naive at the moment, Cissa-"

"I'll warn you fairly, honey. You are far better off keeping your eyes, hands and _dick_ a great distance from our housekeeper, or else you not only lose a wife, but that esteemed reputation you've got going for yourself."

Lucius straightened himself out and rose a bleached brow quizzically. "Was that a threat?" he challenged.

She veered out of his way and headed back for the dining room. "It's a promise."

* * *

A/N:

A jealous Narcissa is only suggestive of more troubles in their household to come. Thanks to those of you who reviewed, followed and faved. The next chapter should come sooner than this one did...hopefully. Feel free to express your ponderings and/or suggestions. I do enjoy reading your feedback.

To those of you reading my other HP fic, Lily's Daughter, an update for that will be published soon. I apologize for the wait in the meantime. Thank you for reading :)

-JLM


End file.
